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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24087400">Simulacra Balance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorteMistrata/pseuds/MorteMistrata'>MorteMistrata</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, I also wanted to take it seriously and write a good character, I miss the 2010's and all of their tropes, but like, so I decided to write one of those oc self insert fics, so it's a bit meta at times, which I hope yall will notice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:07:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,142</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24087400</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorteMistrata/pseuds/MorteMistrata</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, if I somehow managed to cross realities without knowing it, then who’s to say that this is the only one? I’ve read tons of stories where this happened to the protagonist. What if this is just a story?” Natalie looks up in horror, fingers digging into flesh of her cheeks as realization dawns on her. “What if I’m just some middle schooler’s shitty OC?”</p><p>“Doesn’t your self awareness make that impractical? I’ve never seen a seventh grader write dialogue this well.”</p><p>“What, like you talk to seventh graders all the time?”</p><p>“Well, no,” Donnie says, rubbing the back of his head bashfully. “But I have read some of Mikey’s Super Robo Mecha Force Five Fanfiction, and I think that’s comparable.”</p><p>“That- that actually makes me feel a little better. God knows I couldn’t write for shit back then.”</p><p>Or </p><p>A modern day OC accidentally gets brought to the TMNT 2012 Universe, with all of the snark and better writing that modern day fanfic conventions brings with it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fuck if I know - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Am I a butterfly or a man?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I miss 2010 and all of the fanfic tropes and thankfully my writing skills have gotten better since then so I decided to try my hand at one of those era typically fics. </p><p>So Natalie is me with alterations just as many OC's back then were versions of their creators. I haven't done anything like this in years and its wholly self indulgent but alas, if you like it, please comment.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter 1:</b>
</p><p>There are voices echoing loudly down the hall, their words inaudible, but the tone- joyous, much too happy for the late hour- is one she easily recognizes. Natalie’s head hurts like she’d been partying, except, no, she hasn’t. Ever since she’d made the move from Atlanta to New York, she’d been careful not to let her guard down, lest she become a victim in an unfamiliar town, and besides, it’s not like she’s had the time to make any friends here.</p><p> </p><p>In the distance, she can hear water moving too, lot’s of it. A moment after the noise registers, the smell hits her like a truck. </p><p> </p><p>Natalie’s eyes snap open, and then close abruptly again as the light hurts her eyes. She raises a hand over her eyes, and squints as she sits up. She can feel the impression of concrete on her cheek, and the slight numbness that accompanies not moving for a while. Light filters in from somewhere high above, but despite the dim lighting, it’s a struggle to keep her eyes open.</p><p> </p><p>Fighting against the burgeoning headache, she forces herself to get a good look at her surroundings. The room she’s in is unfamiliar, with large concrete walls, and pipes intersecting it, running across the floor, above her, and jutting out of the wall to pour large volumes of water into the center of the room. She doesn’t see a ladder, or a door, or any easy way in, which means she must have been sleepwalking, or under some sort of influence when she got here. Trying to remember what she was doing before she woke up is fruitless. All she can remember is coming home from work and watching tv. Fuck.</p><p> </p><p>“The energy originated from right down here!” One of the voices says triumphantly. The voice is familiar, though Natalie can’t tell from where, and is coming closer. “I’ve never seen anything like this before! It might be a new power cell, or- or a-”</p><p> </p><p>Someone else laughs harshly, another familiar voice that she can’t name. “Or another alien monster!”</p><p> </p><p>“Or another alien monster.” The first voice confirms, enthusiasm somewhat muted. </p><p> </p><p>Natalie can see the shadows growing tall on the wall as they approach. Four of them. Oh thank god. They must be construction workers, she decides, stretching out her legs. Her feet- which are bare, she realizes with disgust-  feel like a thousand pins and needles are poking them, a wave of pain so sudden and intense that it forces a moan from between her clenched teeth. She considers standing, but doesn’t think her body will cooperate. </p><p> </p><p>“Or,” Another voice says, as the four shadows round the corner. “Or <em> that. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Natalie squints at the four humanoid turtles standing at the mouth of the room, their silhouettes familiar, and suddenly it all clicks. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, um,” Donnie tucks what looks like a radon sensor into his belt, and carefully creeps forward. He offers her a hand. “Don’t be scared, miss. Are you okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Natalie laughs. At first, it’s a polite kind of laugh, the sort of thing that one does when a coworker says something legitimately funny. She notes the way that Raph exchanges a look with Leo, and it ramps up, increasing in voracity like the drop of one’s stomach on a roller coaster. A snort slips in, and despite her head hurting, it only makes her laugh harder, <em>louder</em> because god, isn’t this ridiculous? She hasn’t had a dream so convincing in years!</p><p> </p><p>“Uh oh,” Mikey says, talking behind his three fingered hand as if that muffles the sound in any way. “Looks like someone is a few slices short of a pizza pie.” </p><p> </p><p>“Nah,” Natalie forces herself to take a few deep breaths. Her chest hurts from the exertion of it all. Carefully, she takes Donnie’s extended hand, gets to her feet. The texture of his skin is smooth, but not entirely. Similar to leather, but warmer than the lifeless thing one would find in a department store. It’s a detail her mind had never conjured before. She doesn’t ponder long on where it came from; after all, it doesn’t really matter. “I just think it’s funny.”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s funny?” Leo asks, a look of suspicion crossing over his features briefly. Even on her best of days, it’s not like Natalie is much of a threat, and wearing a pair of sweatpants and a large t-shirt- <em>what a lack of imagination she must have, to imagine herself in her pajamas in the sewers in New York</em>- it’s not like she has much room to hide a weapon. “You’re not scared? Or surprised at seeing humanoid talking turtles?”</p><p> </p><p>“Jeez. We must be losing our touch.” Raph says, crossing his arms. </p><p> </p><p>“No,” Natalie waves a hand as if dispelling a bad smell from the air. She shakes a little, her head feeling suddenly light. That’s not a feeling she’s ever had before, not like this, not in a dream. “No, I’m not  scared. Who’d be scared of a Saturday morning cartoon?” And then gesturing to it all, laughs again. “This is just a dream! What is this, season one? Two?” Pointing at Raph, she asks, “Did the cockroach thing already happen? Did Casey? I bet I can guess what happens next.”</p><p> </p><p>Raph’s eyes widen comically. “How do you know about that?”</p><p> </p><p>Donnie’s pulled out his little meter reader again. Natalie’s head feels like a soda can being crushed underfoot, and she tilts, legs falling in from beneath her. Hands catch her, help her to the ground. She keeps her eyes clenched tightly shut and presses against her temples. </p><p> </p><p>“Usually I wake up by now.” She says, quieter. Usually, dreams don’t involve pain so much as the promise of pain; even nightmares are without them. So why does her head hurt so bad? </p><p> </p><p>“What do you think, Donnie?” Leo asks. She can hear the sound of skin on metal, like the subtle click of a hand turning on a stove. “A head injury or something?”</p><p> </p><p>“Or maybe another dimension.” Natalie snorts. “That’s what they always do in fanfiction.” </p><p> </p><p>Despite the headache, it’s still somewhat funny to her just how odd this dream is. Despite the details, and the not waking up, well, this is just a dream. Isn’t it? The hardness of the concrete beneath her presses uncomfortably though her ratty sweatpants, much too worn through and full of holes to ever wear beyond her own apartment, and the cool sewer air brushes across her forehead in a way much too intimate to be made up. </p><p> </p><p>“Well,” Donnie taps the screen of the machine, and when the pain finally lessens enough for her to open her eyes once more, she sees the expression he makes, familiar from all of the hours she’d spent in front of the tv, binging episode after episode. He sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth like he sometimes does when he’s concentrating, and furrows his brows, or rather where his brows would be if he had any. “I think she might be telling the truth, kinda. See this energy reading? It’s consistent with the readings from the kraang interdimensional portals, just muddled with human life signs.” Looking up from his machine, he meets her gaze, eyes wide. “I think she came from an alternate Earth.”</p><p> </p><p>The headache hits her again, this time making her so dizzy that bile rises in her throat. She leans over just in time to puke up the remnants of her dinner: leftover pepperoni pizza.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, gross dude.” Mikey mutters. </p><p> </p><p>Natalie wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “No. Not real. That would be stupid! This is a dream.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure it is,” Raph agrees gamely, slinging her into a bridal carry. His shell is harder than she’d expected. Absentminded, she taps her fingers against it, and giggles. “So why don’t you tell us where you live, and this can continue to be a nice little dream. How’s that sound to ya?”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, we can’t just take her home,” Donnie says, grabbing onto Raph’s other arm. “Something happened here. The energy, those things she said- she couldn’t have possibly have known about them without something extra dimensional going on.”</p><p> </p><p>“Or she’s just drunk. It’s not like drunks haven’t fallen down here before.” Leo says, though he doesn’t sound like he himself believes it. “And even if she’s not, she’s not well. We should take her home, come back tomorrow and see if she’s less-”</p><p> </p><p>“Stupefied?” Mikey interjects.</p><p> </p><p>“Loopy.” Leo corrects. “So,” He says, turning to her. “Where do you live?”</p><p> </p><p>She gives him the address, interspersed with giggles and shitty directions. “Sorry. I’m not from here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well that’s kind of obvious.” Mikey says as Raph speeds through the room to the next hallway, then the next. </p><p> </p><p>“No, I mean, I’m not from <em> here </em>. I’m from Georgia.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, fun.” Raph says. Not unkindly, but not interested either. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m just here for an internship. Genetics.”</p><p> </p><p>At the mention of science, Donnie perks up, appearing out of nowhere fast enough to startle her. “Genetics? You’re a geneticist?”</p><p> </p><p>“Biology student, really.” Natalie corrects. It dawns on her how odd this is. This dream. Because even though Donnie made a connection, it just can’t be true. This sort of thing just doesn’t happen. Hell, it’s even fallen out of favor in fanfiction, relegated to early 2000’s fanfiction archives where lemons and limes and uwu’s still existed, frozen forever in the internet’s hold. “I’m just here for the summer because I won an internship at TCRI.”</p><p> </p><p>And like she’d said the magic word, they freeze. It only takes a moment for what she’d said to catch up with her, and suddenly, the reality of it all becomes too much to ignore. </p><p> </p><p>“Shit,” Natalie says, staring into the darkness of the sewer with grim acceptance. “This isn’t a dream, is it?”</p><p> </p><p>###</p><p> </p><p>It had all started with the scholarship. Natalie had accepted it, of course. Who wouldn’t? With a stipend for housing, and more hands on experience than most other programs would allow seniors to get their hands on, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity for someone like her. Small town, with little money- only a fool would say no. And of course she noticed the name. Natalie had been watching TMNT since she was a kid, and she’d seen the 2012 version at least six or seven times in its entirety. Of course she recognized the acronym TCRI, but it didn’t mean much to her. Because the TCRI that had aliens and trans dimensional travel was one of fiction, not reality. Except apparently, that line had been crossed some time ago, though Natalie could not pinpoint when. </p><p> </p><p>Which led to now. To having four turtles sitting in the living room of her tiny apartment, and rummaging through the leftovers stuffed in her fridge. She sits on the edge of her old grey couch, a holdover from the owners before her. The wobbling kitchen table was theirs too. Mikey sits perched on it, finishing off the pizza she’d bought earlier while Leo nibbles on the dumplings from the night before. </p><p> </p><p>She’s fine with sharing. It’s not like she ever finishes them, and when she’d made the offer to 'help themselves', she was serious, but still. There’s a certain novelty to seeing cartoon characters in the flesh, in her apartment that’s kind of hard to get over. </p><p> </p><p>“So, wait, explain this again?” Leo says wielding the chopsticks that she’d left in the bag to pick up a pork dumpling. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s not that complicated.” Mikey says before she can start the story once more. “She accidentally crossed time and space to travel into our world. Seems pretty straightforward to me.” When his brothers only respond with a look of shock, he continues, “Want me to explain it again?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Raph says, shaking his head. “Once was enough. Now, alternate dimensions, sure I can believe it. But us being a cartoon? No way, uh-uh.”</p><p> </p><p>Natalie shrugs. She changed out of her dirty sewer clothes into a pair of comfy cotton shorts, and an old t-shirt from high school, but the scent of the sewer still lingers. Not as overpowering as before, or as unpleasant. Coupled with the open windows and the summer breeze floating through the window, it’s just another reminder of how not fictional this whole thing is.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t tell you things about the plot. That could mess it up or something. You know, timey wimey stuff.” Natalie brings her knees to her chest and leans her head on them. “I’m not sure how else to prove it. Or even if I should.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s true,” Donnie says, typing feverishly into his t-phone. Natalie can tell that he’s finding all of this a lot more interesting than she is. It’s in character, so at least there’s that. “Given that she claims that she’s from a mirror universe-”</p><p> </p><p>“Mirror Universe?” Leo interrupts. “The mirror universe was actually an evil version of the regular one. And I don’t think she’s evil.”</p><p> </p><p>Natalie remembers why she loved this iteration so much. Leo’s character is so much more fun than the leader stereotype that the others usually follow, and honestly reminds her of her own younger teen years, and obsession with Star Trek. She can sense a similar level of nerdiness as his gaze lingers on the Star Trek movie poster placed on the wall before returning to the food. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s Natalie, actually. Not ‘she’.”</p><p> </p><p>Donnie pauses in his typing for a moment, steals a cold fry from the pizza to-go box. “Fine. Coming from an<em> alternate</em> <em>universe</em> where we’re just a cartoon essentially gives her precognition.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then how would you suggest she prove it, Don?”</p><p> </p><p>Donnie shrugs. “Sing the theme song or something?”</p><p> </p><p>Natalie snorts, because by god, she knows the words all too well, despite not having watched the show in a while, and isn’t that embarrassing? More embarrassing still to sing it in front of the subjects of the song when she has the singing voice of a pigeon. </p><p> </p><p>“I mean, if that’s what you want to hear, I’m fine with it. It’s not going to be on key though.”</p><p> </p><p>And she sings it, humming the opening chorus and talk singing the rest. At first Raph’s expression doesn’t change. All frowns and crossed arms, but when she does his character intro, it blinks into something like discomfort. Donnie’s interest doesn’t wane throughout the entire thing, though Mikey starts beatboxing halfway through to the correct beat, which startles her more than the wrong one would, prompting Leo to smack him half heartedly like a teenager hitting the snooze button. By the time she finishes, there’s really no denying it. </p><p> </p><p>“Either you’ve got a really good and impossibly accurate imagination, or, we’re a cartoon in another universe.” Leo says as if it’s a given fact. “Now what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Now,” Natalie drawls, tucking a stray curl back into her ponytail. “It’s your problem, isn’t it? I wouldn’t be here if TCRI wasn’t doing something it wasn’t supposed to. I know that much at least.”</p><p> </p><p>“How much do you know?” Raph asks, voice still blatantly suspicious. </p><p> </p><p>“Most of the main plotlines except for the later seasons. But like I said, no spoilers.” And quite honestly, she’s forgotten a decent amount of the details anyway. She pauses, a sudden thought finally breaking through the shock/apathy like an iceberg through a hull. “If I somehow managed to cross realities without knowing it, then who’s to say that this is the only one? I’ve read tons of stories where this happened to the protagonist. What if this is just a story?” Natalie looks up in horror, fingers digging into flesh of her cheeks as realization dawns on her. “What if I’m just some middle schooler’s shitty OC?”</p><p> </p><p>As Raph snorts and says, “You read fanfiction of us?”</p><p> </p><p>Donnie says, “Doesn’t your self awareness make that impractical? I’ve never seen a seventh grader write dialogue this well.”</p><p> </p><p>“What, like you talk to seventh graders all the time?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, no,” Donnie says, rubbing the back of his head bashfully. “But I have read some of Mikey’s Super Robo Mecha Force Five Fanfiction, and I think that’s comparable.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, really?” Mikey smiles with a mouth full, and then realizing the insult, frowns, “Hey!”</p><p> </p><p>“That- that actually makes me feel a little better. God knows I couldn’t write for shit back then.”</p><p> </p><p>Quiet falls upon them once more, but not for long.</p><p> </p><p>“Sooo,” Leo pushes aside the to go box, more serious than he was before. Natalie can see it in the way that his shoulders straighten up, and the way he holds his head. The familiarity of the way he’d looked before various fights in the series, in the places where his eyes turning white were too much for the scene- she can recognize it all. “Have any idea what the kraang are planning?”</p><p> </p><p>“Besides making cows better predisposed for making dairy, I have no idea.” Natalie pauses. She really shouldn’t get involved, and yet- well, isn’t this everything she’d always wanted? To be a part of her favorite childhood franchise? Might as well have a little fun with it, and besides, how else is she going to get home? “I could try and find out.”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh-uh,” Donnie says, standing up and shaking his head vigorously. “Remember Timothy? Not a chance!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not an idiot though,” Natalie protests. She turns and opens the dresser beside the couch, and when her fingers come into contact with cool metal, she wraps her fingers around it, and sets it on the coffee table. “And besides, I’m not entirely defenseless.”</p><p> </p><p>“I… I can see that.” Donnie says, somewhat unhappily. He sighs, and rubs his head like he has a headache. “Nevermind that that’s not legal here-"</p><p> </p><p>“Its not illegal unless someone catches me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you really think that a pistol is going to take care of the kraang? Maybe one or two, but an entire building full?” Donnie continues.</p><p> </p><p>“I won’t get caught. I’m supposed to be there, remember? And besides, I’m still not entirely sure that I’m not just in a coma or something.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well-”</p><p> </p><p>“And if this really is real, then it’s protection enough to make sure I get home safe.” Natalie finishes. It’s getting pretty late, she thinks, as she stifles a yawn. “Come back tomorrow, and I’ll tell you what I figure out at work, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>It’s a dismissal, if a polite one.  Natalie hopes that this would offer a decent alternative ending for her dream, if this is one, or perhaps for the chapter, if this was really a fanfiction like she’d first presumed. It also serves to make Leo usher his brothers out to the fire escape, a convention she’s still not quite used to. She shuts the window behind them, but doesn’t lock it, and wonders, just what exactly, she’s gotten herself into. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Natalie goes to work</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wrote a novel, and got busy with college, and then felt really guilty about all of these unfinished fics. I'm back with more as I rewatch TMNT 2012 for like billionth time.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Natalie wakes up the next morning, and unfortunately remembers everything perfectly. As much as she’d like to pass it all off as a very creative dream, there’s too much proof to the contrary. There are empty to-go boxes left on her kitchen counter, and a faint scent of stale water that she places immediately as being from storm runoff. She remembers it all too clearly, and with her mind clear, it’s very difficult to discount the night before as being anything but real. Reality, she scoffs. What a joke.</p><p> </p><p>She glances at her clock, and realizes that she’s up a few minutes earlier than she normally is. With a deliberate slowness, she draws herself out of bed and gets ready for the day. Natalie puts on a high collared blouse, and slacks, along with a pair of discreet black sneakers.</p><p>She attempts, briefly, to convince her curls into something resembling a professional looking bun, and then pauses, staring at her reflection to try and find something,<em> anything </em> that could possibly disprove the night before. She looks normal. But if all of reality had really changed to animation, would she really be able to tell the difference? She can still see the details of her face, brown eyes and brown skin, unkempt eyebrows, the scar from her tenth birthday just under her right eye. </p><p> </p><p>She looks normal. It’s like the night before never happened. But it did. </p><p> </p><p>Still, she’s rolling with it. If this is in fact her life, and not a fanfic, well, she assumes that the plot will still go pretty on formula. Kraang did something that pulled her from her own reality to the one of an early 2010’s cartoon. If this is a fanfiction, well, she should expect to provide snarky commentary and to inevitably fall in love with someone despite being herself being an asshole and/or utterly incompetent. </p><p> </p><p>And well, at least Natalie’s part is somewhat easy. All she has to do is go to work, and ask questions, which is what she’s <em> supposed </em> to do as a summer intern.</p><p> </p><p>Natalie straightens up, and grabs her purse, sticking her glock into it amongst the empty snack bags and old receipts. There are no metal detectors at work, which she supposes should’ve raised some red flags earlier, but that doesn’t make the weight of it any easier to bear, considering the rules of concealed carry do not apply in New York City the way they do in the south. She’d never thought she’d agree with her NRA loving father on the merits of gun carrying- but she didn’t expect the circumstances that called for it either. </p><p> </p><p>Natalie lives only two blocks away from TCRI, a towering building visible from her window that, viewed with new eyes, is exactly the same as the one she’d regularly watched the turtles scale and fight in when she was a preteen crowded around the family television. The sun isn’t overly hot during her morning walk, and the light gleams through the skyline, twinkling beautifully on the already crowded sidewalks, and shining windows of the towering skyscrapers.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” Another familiar voice calls. Mae Whitman, if she remembers right. Except here, it’s actually…”My name’s April. You’re Natalie, right?”</p><p> </p><p>April looks much like she had in the cartoon, except, obviously, more real. There’s texture to her shirt, and contrast where the number was screened onto it. Her hair is messier than it normally would be, with strands slicked to her forehead with sweat, and a healthy reddish tint to her cheeks. </p><p> </p><p>April falls into place beside Natalie, friendly in posture and demeanor, though her tessen sticks out of her back pocket like a warning. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s me,” Natalie adjusts the strap of her purse and gives a half wave.  “It’s nice to meet you, April. Word must get around fast.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” April shrugs, nonchalant. “It’s not like they have anyone else to talk to about this kind of stuff, and honestly,” She leans in close, a grin pulling at the corners of her mouth. “I’m really excited to have another girl around, to be honest.”</p><p> </p><p>“Glad to be of service for all your sleepover and shopping spree needs,” Natalie drawls. She’s a whole two inches taller than April, and the difference in height only helps to highlight just how young April really is. Sixteen wasn’t that long ago, but the difference between highschool and college feels like a decade of its own. “So, uh, how’s school? Seems like it’d be hard to balance with all the-” Natalie mimes something like a sword, and then throwing stars. Not a single passerby seems to notice or care. “Stuff.”</p><p> </p><p>April looks startled at Natalie’s question. “I mean, yeah, of course it is. I just, Donnie’s good at forging notes, and my dad knows. I guess it’s fine. I’m passing all of my classes.”</p><p> </p><p>Natalie shrugs. “Well, you should maybe try and find room for a club or something to boost your college applications. Oh, and take your ACT and SAT’s more than once.”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, thanks for the advice, ” April grabs her elbow, drawing her to a stop beside a coffee cart. TCRI is not more than half a block away. “But you know that’s not why I’m here, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m assuming that my story of crossing dimensions is kind of out there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not even. We’ve seen some really weird stuff. I mean, my best friends are talking turtles. I have no business being close minded.” April crosses her arms, and leans against the brick wall of the building behind her. “Donnie just wanted me to give you one of these.”</p><p> </p><p>April holds out a shell phone. Natalie forcefully beats down the twelve year old girl deep inside her, who spent ages daydreaming about such things, and accepts it, slipping it into her purse carefully before adjusting the strap on her shoulder. It’s not heavy, but the weight of the gun and the phone and the knowledge of what weird shit she’s currently entrapped in makes her shoulder ache. </p><p> </p><p>“I know that this is like, not entirely real to you, and I get that. This,” April gestures vaguely at the buildings around her. “Is completely and utterly unreal. But the Kraang are scary. I still have nightmares about being experimented on. I worry about them every time they go off to save the day. So be careful, alright? Any enemy of the Kraang is a friend of ours, and honestly, I’d love having another girl around that’s not the daughter of a literal supervillain.”</p><p> </p><p>Natalie nods. “I’ll try to take it seriously.” She’s having a hard time coming to terms with this being reality, but it’s a necessity. If she’s going to play spy with the big boys, she should take it seriously.</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” April says, a shy smile playing on her lips. “It was really nice to meet you, Natalie. I hope you don’t mind if I stop by later with the boys?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course not. See you then?”</p><p> </p><p>April nods, and then turns back the other way, disappearing into the crowds as seamlessly as a drop of water rejoining a river. </p><p> </p><p>Natalie turns and starts walking again. She stops and buys a coffee to hold onto a semblance of normalcy, and steps inside of TCRI. </p><p> </p><p>The day starts as any other. She scans her badge at the elevator, and slides into a car of other tired looking people, most of which are holding a coffee as they wait for their floor. She could go all out, attempting to step off at one of the higher floors that she’s not meant to go to, but she thinks the best way to start the investigation is slowly. She’ll go about her day as she always does, and just look a little harder. </p><p> </p><p>The chime for the fifth floor dings as the door opens. She, and a few others step out. This floor is divided into a few sections. The lab is to the far back, with glass walls that allow anyone to view inside at any given moment. It takes up most of the floor with it’s huge containment area for the live specimens and the various equipment needed for their work. The rest of it is computer stations where the continued work on gene sequencing and simulations can continue. As an intern, Natalie is usually relegated to busywork that no one else wants to do. Typing in minute changes to a very long string of DNA, fetching coffee, administering feed to the cows, and once, even milking them, and preparing the cheese. </p><p> </p><p>Her supervisor, an older white lady with streaks of grey in her hair- <em>is she familiar? Is she a kraang droid of some sort that she just cannot recognize?</em>- walks over, handing her a daily task list. </p><p> </p><p>“Start with the updates to the gene sequencer.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes ma’am.” Natalie says, heading to her work station. It’s a sad grey cubicle in a sea of sad grey cubicles, but hers is decorated with a few pictures of her family, and the picture sides of an outdated baby animal calendar. She takes her seat and begins to type. </p><p> </p><p>What could the kraang be doing that she needs to look out for? If it’s something weird with the cows, there’s no way she’ll be able to recognize on sight that they're doing something weird through the dna. It’s little more than letters on her end, made even more abstract by the code they're using to rewrite it. What’s way easier, she decides, is determining if her coworkers are human too, and if they are, if they’ve been dragged from another dimension as well.</p><p> </p><p>Natalie finishes the gene sequence edits just before her lunch break, and shuts down the program before heading to the break room. She brings her purse with her, struggling not to hold it too tightly despite her fear of being found out. Oh god. Bringing a gun was a bad idea. She’d forgotten that besides the potential use, there was a very real possibility of getting into normal trouble- if indeed this is reality and not a dream or some other form of fiction. She takes her lunch from the fridge, and sits down at the table. Her supervisor is picking at a slice of pepperoni pizza, taking it apart methodically in a way that could be a nervous tick, picky eating, or an attempt to hide her lack of appetite. </p><p> </p><p>“Is that from Marizello’s Pizza?” She asks, a slight smile gracing her lips. “Marco always buys from there when he gets us lunch.”</p><p> </p><p>Mrs. London breaks the crust into another burst of crumbs. “It is acceptable.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah,” Natalie pauses. She usually avoids Mrs. London, not only because of the inherent awkwardness of trying to be friendly with her boss, but also because she seems almost as if she’s trying to end every non work related conversation as soon as possible. It’s uncomfortable, but does it mean anything? She tries straightforwardness- the one topic that she’ll always answer. </p><p> </p><p>“Why’d you decide to work here?”</p><p> </p><p>Mrs. London smiles, pushing aside her plate. Her eyes latch onto Natalie as she leans forward, hands steepling beneath her chin. “For the same reason I assume you decided to accept our internship offer. TCRI is a company focused on technological innovation in the biological and technological fields. There is no place better for one truly interested in the sciences to be employed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Natalie says. Mrs. London’s response sounds canned, but no more so than any other corporate believer she’s spoken to. She stabs at her salad, and tries again. “I’m really lucky to have received such a great offer. I was wondering though, one of my friends applied as well, and she was denied. Was there something in particular that stood out on my application?”</p><p> </p><p>“I was not personally in charge of that decision,” Mrs. London says, tossing her plate into the trash beside her. Her eyes don’t leave Natalie, locked on like weapons systems, ready to fire. “But I would presume it is because of your place of origin. At TCRI, we appreciate the insight of workers from every background, and hope to offer the same training and consideration no matter where they come from. </p><p> </p><p>Another coworker, a middle aged man with pit stains under his lab coat, and a rubber duck tie takes a seat at the table. The spell breaks. Mrs. London dusts off her hands, and rises. “It was nice to speak with you, Natalie. Fostering the love of science in the youth is one of my great privileges.” </p><p> </p><p>She leaves. </p><p> </p><p>Natalie can’t tell if she’s going crazy, if she’s trying to see too much when there’s nothing there. Is her boss just awkward, or does she mean actual harm? Is she human or not? Natalie can’t tell, and suddenly the imagined stupidity of the human background characters in her show seems far less implausible than it had years ago. </p><p> </p><p>The other man in the room is middle aged, old enough to have probably seen the original 80’s cartoon. She can at least test out this theory pretty easily. </p><p> </p><p>“You were an 80’s kid, weren’t you?” </p><p> </p><p>The man looks up, mayo smeared in his wiry mustache. “Yesh.” He answers, mouth full. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m trying to remember this old cartoon from back then. My mom used to watch but I don’t remember the name. It was like, ninjas? And the color green was really important. Have any idea of what it’s called?” Unless she says ‘turtle’ there’s no way to make it any clearer. Still, this should be more than enough for anyone who isn’t living under a rock. </p><p> </p><p>The man shakes his head as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “No. I’m a real cartoon geek. I would’ve known if there was something like that. Maybe she meant an anime? I could try to find it for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, no,” Natalie cleans up her stuff, resisting the urge to sigh. “Thanks for helping though. I guess I’ll have to do a little research on my own.”</p><p>
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</p><p>The rest of the day passes quickly as Natalie fights off the urge to try something stupid, just to prove that this can’t be real. She takes a couple totally not conspicuous video clips and pictures of the office, her phone tucked camera out in her junior lab coat pocket as she feeds and waters the cows, and hopes that that’s enough. While walking home, she googles ‘TMNT’ just to be certain, and just as she’d hoped against, nothing pulls up except for a few businesses and chatrooms. Natalie doesn’t realize that she’s been on autodrive until she’s unlocking the door to her apartment, tossing her purse on the coffee table with a heavy thud that reminds her, suddenly, of what’s inside.  Her head hurts, like she’s had a migraine and took too many pills in her hurry to get rid of it. She squints as she flips on the lights, and shoulders the fridge open. </p><p> </p><p>Something moves behind her, and she drops the totally-not-bought-with-a-fake-ID-off-brand beer. The laminate flooring doesn’t break the bottle and it rolls to a stop at a green, three toed foot. Natalie squints, and then gasps, as suddenly, she remembers that she’s supposed to have visitors. “Crap. I was going to order pizza.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry about it, ” April says from the couch as Mikey groans. Raph hits the back of his head, silencing him like an alarm clock as Natalie swipes her beer back from Donnie’s outstretched hand. Natalie pulls the cap off with her teeth as she joins her. April raises a brow. “Are you even old enough to be drinking?</p><p> </p><p>“Depends on which ID you’re looking at.” Natalie mumbles. She draws her phone from her purse, and tosses it to Donnie. “I got some video that probably isn’t super useful, but I didn’t see anything weird, honest. I’m not allowed on the upper floors, and I don’t think cows play into the master plan.”</p><p> </p><p>Mikey’s eyes go wide. “Evil cheese!”</p><p> </p><p>Raph swat at the back of his head as he peers over Donnie’s shoulder. “So what? You recorded milking a cow and staring at a computer all day?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, yeah. That’s my job. I’m an intern. I do the stuff no one else wants to and when I go home in a few months, I’ll have a great reference on my resume.”</p><p> </p><p>“You said you watched our show a lot, right?” Leonardo says, leaning against the fridge. “Shouldn’t you be able to recognize the kraang by sight? Or guess the plotline?”</p><p> </p><p>“This isn’t something that was ever in the show. I<em> could </em>try to guess the plotline, but I really don’t see how <em>I</em> fit into it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm,” April crosses his arms. “Back to square one then.”</p><p> </p><p>“More importantly,” Mikey says, bursting in and leaning close. In such a small apartment, any movement seems large and out of place, and with such animated movement between the four of them, it feels even smaller. “Who’s got the most fans?” He wiggles his fingers in punctuation, and Natalie laughs, shoving him away. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s even.” April gives her a look like she doesn’t believe her. </p><p> </p><p>“Really? No way.” Raph huffs. “I’ve got to have more fans than these dorks.”</p><p> </p><p>Natalie knows that that’s technically true, but actually admitting to it is probably not the best idea, especially if it causes them to get roused up about it in her very small, and very expensive apartment. She shrugs, slinging an arm over the back of the couch as she takes a swig of her beer. It tastes like bubbly piss, but it <em>feels</em> normal. More normal than anything else that’s happened in the past few days. </p><p> </p><p>“No. It’s pretty even.” </p><p> </p><p>“Well then,” Natalie recognizes the danger in Mikey’s voice, knows before he even finishes speaking that he’s rousing up trouble. “Who’s your favorite?”</p><p> </p><p>Natalie feels the eyes on her as her ears burn, and she remembers an aborted deviantart page from when she was twelve, the pages of fanfiction she’d both read and written, and beyond that- She is saved from having to answer as Donnie’s barstool screeches, and he launches off, holding her phone out to her as the video clip restarts. The others crowd around it, jostling to see. </p><p> </p><p>“Look at this. Natalie, what do you see?”</p><p> </p><p>The clip is short and shaky. It’s just her opening the door to the lab, and setting out feed for the cows. She’s humming under her breath as she does so, an off-key rendition of the theme song as she cuts bags of grass cuttings and spills them open in feeding troughs.</p><p> </p><p>She raises a brow. “Farm work?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not farm work my dude.” Mikey says, face scrunched up.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Natalie shakes her head as she grabs her phone. She gestures at the screen where the grass is kept, and then the cows behind her. “That’s the feed, and those’re the cows. What’s not clicking?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Donnie says. “It’s not. Those are kraang animals of some sort, and what you’re feeding them is not grass. It’s mutagen.”</p><p> </p><p>“But if I touched it, I should have-”</p><p> </p><p>“Right here-” Donnie pauses the video. “It splashed and nothing happened. You’re immune. The only other person who’s ever been immune is April, because of her Kraang DNA.”</p><p> </p><p>The video still looks harmless. Natalie doesn’t see anything wrong with it, just like how nothing else today threw her off, but then again, how can she trust herself when she hadn’t even realized that she was in an alternate universe?</p><p> </p><p>She finishes her beer and wishes it were vodka. “Okay. So now what?”</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Brain surgery?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I totally forgot how hard it is to write so many people in one room. I tried to show y'all what this all feels like from someone else's pov, because the next chapter ia gonna be,,,, something. Please read and review! No flames please rawr XD</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The apartment is far more cramped than April’s and with the TCRI building looming just a few blocks away, Raph can’t feel all the way at ease. Natalie sits on the couch, a beer in hand like it’s nothing but a diet soda. Her shoulders slump as Donnie says, “Well, first, how much do you know? Maybe you can give us a hint about where to start looking for answers.”</p><p> </p><p>“Um, okay. Probably should figure out where in the timeline this is first.” Natalie taps her finger against the empty can a few times, and then straightens up. “How many human friends do you have?”</p><p> </p><p>Something about her bristles Raph’s nerves. She works for TCRI. From another dimension or not, that makes her suspicious in his eyes. He crosses his arms. “What kind of a question is that?”</p><p> </p><p>“I can guess which season of the show this is, and know who you have and haven’t faced yet. My guess is either season one or two, given that your voice is-” Her eyes flit to Leo, and then she halts, crossing her arms as she settles back in her seat. “Nevermind.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s obvious that she’s hiding something. As Raph opens his mouth to call her out on it, he catches Donnie’s eye. His brother shakes his head every so slightly. Raph trusts Donnie, and resolves to wait. But if she’s hiding something about his brothers….</p><p> </p><p>“Okay. Fine. We have two.” Leo answers. </p><p> </p><p>“And you've never left new York?”</p><p> </p><p>"Do dreams count? Because I had this really wicked one where Donnie and I were detectives and we had to travel to Japan to track down the Cereal Killer and we-" </p><p> </p><p>"No. It doesn't." She bites her lip and then shrugs. "I could probably narrow it down further, but my guess is this is season two. So you’ve already dealt with the Kraang once, and you haven’t found retromutagen yet. If I’m seeing things wrong, then maybe there’s a brain implant like the kind Nr. O’Neil had when you rescued him? Or maybe I'm a robot or something? It's not like any answers here are going to be particularly practical.”</p><p> </p><p>"We can check." Donnie shoves Raph aside, and gestures at Natalie to lean forward. She swoops her curly hair away from her neck, but there’s nothing behind it. “Well, there’s nothing there. Maybe they’ve made advancements and created a subcutaneous implant. We’d have to get back to my lab for me to check.”</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t do that here?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, no. I don’t have any of my tools here. But it won’t hurt a bit, I promise.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you…” Natalie hesitates. “You trust me enough to take me to your home?”</p><p> </p><p>As Leo says, “You’ve given us no reason not to trust you so far.” Raph huffs, “No way.”</p><p> </p><p>Raph glares at Leo. Leo frowns at Raph. </p><p> </p><p>"We can try the robot thing first." Natalie rummages through her purse as she continues. "Kraang droids don't bleed, right?" And then, like it's the most normal thing in the world, she takes a pocket knife off her keychain and digs a cut into the skin of her wrist. Mikey moves faster than him and snatches it away before it can become too wide. Natalie shrugs as red bubbles up, and presses her other hand against it. "So not a robot, then."</p><p> </p><p>Natalie says it like she thinks it's still a joke, and it annoys him. Something about how she speaks, all analytical and cold reminds him of his brother whenever he’s building some new contraption. </p><p> </p><p>"Why would you do that?" April snaps as she stands up, grabbing paper towels from the kitchen counter. She presses them into Natalie's hand. "The Kranng aren't nearly advanced enough to talk normal enough to fool anyone."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah they are. Irma-" She winces, and sighs. "I'm really bad at keeping secrets."</p><p> </p><p>"What about Irma?" April's face is set. She's as stubborn as they come, and if Natalie doesn't answer Raph might have to hold her back from dragging the answers out of her.</p><p> </p><p>Natalie seems to recognize this and hurries to say, "She's a kraang droid. At the end of the season, she plays a part in setting a trap for you."</p><p> </p><p>"But that makes no sense," April splutters. "We've been friends since we were kids. She's normal!"</p><p> </p><p>"I don't know when that changed, but she's not human." Natalie glances between the five of them, the tension thick enough to cut, and then stands, heading towards a room in the back. "I'm gonna go change. I'll give you guys a minute."</p><p> </p><p>As soon as she's gone, April crosses her arms and looks to Donnie. "Do you think she's telling the truth?"</p><p> </p><p>"I think it's very likely. She knew about Casey. She knew our names, and she trusted us almost immediately. We already know that she most definitely came from another universe, and I can't think of any reason to lie about it." Donnie says matter of factly. April looks like she's going to cry before forcing it away. Donnie adds awkwardly. "I'll work on some kind of Kranng detector. That'll prove whether or not Irma's human, and if Natalie is right about Kranng being able to imitate humans, it might come in handy later."</p><p> </p><p>"So, what? You check and see if she's being brainwashed and then what's the plan?" Raph interjects. "You're going to use her to figure out what's going on at TCRI? Think that'll turn out well? Like it did for the pulverizer?"</p><p> </p><p>"This isn't like Timothy," Donnie hisses. </p><p> </p><p>It's one of his many sore spots as of late, and Raph feels immediately guilty at having brought it up. Still, it needed to be said. It doesn't matter is she irritates him; another mutant problem won't help anyone, and accidentally ruining someone's life won't make anyone feel good. </p><p> </p><p>"And if it gets too dangerous, we'll tell her to stop. It won't turn out like that this time. It's in our best interest to get to the bottom of this. If she knows our every move, she could be incredibly dangerous if she ended up in the hands of the Kranng or Shredder. What if she's not the only one from that dimension?" Leo says. He looks between his brothers, meeting their eyes as he asks, "So we're in agreement? We bring her to the lair?"</p><p> </p><p>"Fine." Raph huffs.</p><p> </p><p>"Coolio." Mikey says. </p><p> </p><p>Donnie nods.</p><p> </p><p>The door opens. Natalie no longer looks like a caricature of the many businesswomen populating the streets of New York. Wearing a UGA hoodie, and a pair of jeans, she looks a lot younger, as if she wouldn't be out of place in one of April's classes. She shoves her hands in the big middle pocket. It crinkles like a bag of chips is inside. </p><p> </p><p>"You good?"</p><p> </p><p>"We're great." April says, far too chipper. "Ready to figure out how badly the Kranng messed you up?" </p><p> </p><p>"I've got nothing else to do."</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Well that didn't go to plan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Honestly? Let's go full 2010's in here. Give me you suggestions! What do you want to see in this story? Is there anyone in particular you want Natalie to end up with? Any tropes or scenarios you want to see? Don't forget to read and review.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> I am too old for this </em>, Natalie thinks as she climbs into a storm drain. She really, really hates that she’s touching the metal ladder with her bare hands. It's cold and damp and most likely covered in germs from whatever detritus flowed into it on a rainy day; but she would have felt more awkward pulling on a pair of latex gloves to do so when no one else seems to have a problem with it. Even April grabs the bars without pause, obviously used to the dank smell that only grows stronger with each descending step. </p><p> </p><p>They never talk about this in the fanfics, she thinks humorlessly, though then again,  it’s common sense, she supposes, that the sewers would smell like shit. Almost as soon as she reaches the bottom, her head starts to ache, and she wonders if she should’ve had a water to chase down that beer earlier. </p><p> </p><p>“Feeling queasy?” Raph leers as she steps into a puddle, glad that she’d chosen to wear her old hiking boots instead of regular sneakers. </p><p> </p><p>“Nope,” She says stubbornly. “I’m fine. This is fine. Totally fine.”</p><p> </p><p>Natalie is a liar. As Leo drags the grate closed behind her, it’s a lot harder to ignore the claustrophobia that’s slowly settling in. Normally, it’s not an issue. Unlike her mother, she can take elevators, and pass through cramped stairwells with no problem. It’s the being stuck that makes it hard to breathe. </p><p> </p><p>She stares resolutely at the back of Mikey's head as they start down one dark tunnel.</p><p> </p><p>“You get used to the smell,” April says, grabbing her hand as she stumbles over an old tire. "After a while, you hardly notice it."</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine,” Natalie reiterates, but doesn’t pull away from her grip as they trek through the sewers. </p><p> </p><p>There’s a sharp increase in the smell as the path slides into the main sewer line, and they go deeper underground. She can feel the weight of the city above them, the walls tight around her  like a vice threatening to shut her in. If this were a cave, or stairwell, she'd stop and take deep breaths; but doing so now wouldn't lessen the feeling and would only make her feel more nauseous. </p><p> </p><p>What's even worse is that the tunnels all look the same. Damp concrete, and moss; the stale scent of storm water, with sewage tainting the air from somewhere off in the distance. It's dizzying, and Natalie finds herself zoning out as she struggles not to let her claustrophobia impede them. </p><p> </p><p>She's focusing so hard that she hardly notices that anyone’s speaking to her until she feels April tugging her hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you okay?” April asks as they come to a stop. The air feels thick, like gruel flowing down her throat. “You look a little sick.”</p><p> </p><p>Natalie hates to admit it, but she’s feeling a little sick too. It’s only because she’s yet to eat anything that she hasn’t begun to act on her nauseousness. "I'm claustrophobic. It's fine."</p><p> </p><p>Mikey gasps. "You're afraid of Santa Claus?"</p><p> </p><p>"No. That's not what-</p><p> </p><p>“Ho, ho, ho!” Mikey grins wolfishly, arms raised like a stereotypical monster lurching in the darkness. </p><p> </p><p>Raph flicks the back of his head as Donnie explains, "Claustrophobia is a fear of enclosed spaces, and is somewhat derivative of taphophobia, the fear of being buried underground. It’s actually pretty interesting how one scenario can-”</p><p> </p><p>As Donnie goes on with his explanation, Natalie takes a deep breath to calm her stomach, but it only makes the low level headache feel worse. She coughs as something wet drips down the back of her throat. As she wipes her nose, red smears against the grey sleeve of her hoodie.</p><p> </p><p>“Huh.” She’s not one to get nose bleeds often. She surveys the blood smeared on her sleeve, and feels the cut on her wrist pulse in time with her headache. It had hurt, sure, enough to maybe assuage her fears of this not being real just a bit more, but now both aches feel somewhat muted. “Think maybe if it is some sort of implant, there’s a self destruct button for it?"</p><p> </p><p>“It’s possible. If their plan was to introduce a person from another universe as a pawn, one who could potentially disrupt their-,” He turns back to see if she’s listening, and notices the red streaking down her chin. “Oh. That wasn’t a hypothetical, was it?"</p><p> </p><p>“We should probably pick up the speed,” Leo urges as Raph slings her arm over his shoulder. “Do you think you can fix this, Donnie?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s a lot of blood,” Donnie remarks worriedly. “If it’s an intracranial bleed-”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d be a dead girl walking. Probably too clinical of a death for a kids show.” Natalie remarks. If it’s an implant, and that is indeed her best guess, she bets it’s because she went underground, and the signal disconnected. That’s good on one count; the kraang can’t use her to track down the lair, which means she at least hasn’t messed up the timeline in that regard. </p><p> </p><p>“Still a distinct possibility here, Natalie.” April huffs, half jogging beside her. “You could at least sound a little more concerned.”</p><p> </p><p>“Donnie is like, stupid smart. He’s figured out other alien bullshit. I’m sure he can figure-” A gush of blood bubbles between her lips, dripping down the front of her hoodie. She wrenches away from Raph’s hold unsuccessfully as she spits it on the ground. “Actually, maybe I should just go to a hospital.”</p><p> </p><p>“A hospital wouldn’t know where to start looking. And what if it didn’t stop once you got topside? It could be a one way switch.”</p><p> </p><p>“You look like you just stepped off the set of Carrie, bro,” Mikey’s eyes are wide, but his nonchalant tone makes her feel a little better. Surely if it were that serious, even <em>he</em> would be a little freaked out. </p><p> </p><p>“Just missing the prom dress,” Natalie says with a grin. April jerks away at the sight of her teeth, which must be lined red.</p><p> </p><p>Up ahead, the tunnel grows lighter as the lair comes into view. Natalie can see the turnstile gate, and beyond it the pit where the couch is, and the TV and game cabinets around it. </p><p> </p><p>“I can walk,” Natalie insists. She’s not some damsel in distress, and she’s not scared of a little blood; she’d dabbled in nursing for a bit before deciding on bioengineering, and had even done volunteering after the most recent hurricane while down in Florida. </p><p> </p><p>Raph resolutely ignores her, and maneuvers her over the gate like an unwieldy sack of potatoes. “Ha. No. Not interested in you leaving more of a blood trail than you already are.” </p><p> </p><p>She bites down the urge to cuss, and wrestles free, following Donnie to his lab as he directs the others to stay out of the way. The layout is familiar in the way that a repeated dream is familiar. She knows the layout in pieces; from one scene transitioning to another. But put together, it feels misshapen, as if the space itself doesn’t fit right with her recollection. </p><p> </p><p>“Hold this, and be still.”  Donnie shoves a rag partially smeared with motor oil into her hands as he drags what looks like a very thick chalkboard over to the table. Natalie hops up as he raises it to her head level, wincing as the waves of pain begin to feel more like storm surges than the sort found gently lapping at a shore. “<em>Be still."</em> Donnie repeats firmly from the other side of the board. </p><p> </p><p>“Ew,” Mikey groans in disgust as he pokes his head in the doorway. “What’s that? It looks like a squid and a hair ball had a baby?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Natalie shrieks. </p><p> </p><p>Donnie laughs nervously, shoving the Mikey aside. “No, nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all. I’m ninety-nine percent sure that this will work.”</p><p> </p><p>“What will? You’re not going to crack my head open, are you?” Natalie’s mind flashes to her mother scraping the inside of a watermelon clean for the fourth of July. </p><p> </p><p>“Nothing like that. Just a little EMP,” He flits between station to station, gathering batches of what looks like clutter, but which she knows to be something scientifically implausible into his arms. “Which I’ll centralize and use to turn it off. No surgery or anything!” He tosses a metal strainer on top of her head. </p><p> </p><p>“EMP? Directly?” Natalie pushes the strainer up a little so that she can see, only for Donnie to shove it back down. She can’t hold the rag to her nose with it on, and so holds it in her lap to collect the worst of it spilling down her chin. “That can cause internal burns, brain damage, memory problems-”</p><p> </p><p>“And cellular mutations,” Donnie finishes, clipping two jump cables to the rim of the strainer. </p><p> </p><p>Outside of the lab, she can hear Raph mutter. “Great, now there’s two of them.”</p><p> </p><p>Natalie grabs his wrist as he tries to pull away. “Don’t try and make cancer sound cool.”</p><p> </p><p>“Better cancer in fifty years, or death by nose bleed now?” He pauses for only a second as Natalie opens her mouth, a very strong explicative on the tip of her tongue as he flips the switch. </p><p> </p><p>It’s like sticking a fork into a socket, and then suddenly- not. A great pressure alleviates, and it’s like she can breathe again. She can feel the warmth of Donnie’s breath through the holes of the strainer as he carefully lifts it away. </p><p> </p><p>“I can’t tell if you’ve stopped bleeding or not.”</p><p> </p><p>Natalie rubs the rag under her nose, and then touches the skin beneath it gingerly. Her fingers come away dry. “I think it’s stopped.” </p><p> </p><p>“See if it turned off all of the systems. You might need a second dose to shut off whatever’s disrupting your visual connections.”</p><p> </p><p>“No. We're not going that again." Natalie says flatly as she pulls out her phone from her pocket, and clicks play on the video. It’s familiar at first, but as it goes on, she sees it. The ‘cows’ are vaguely cattle shaped, but a strange blue shade that seems almost luminescent. On screen, Natalie doesn’t look perturbed in the slightest as she pours canister after canister into the large feeding troughs. As a glob of thick blue splashes onto her arm, she simply flicks it away before turning back towards the door. She sets her phone back down, swallowing hard as she realizes that maybe this is a bit more complicated than she’d first expected. </p><p> </p><p>“It worked. That’s not necessarily a good thing.” </p><p> </p><p>“What? C’mon, I saved your life.” Donnie whines. “That’s got to count for something.”</p><p> </p><p>Her head still hurts faintly, but not as badly as before. Her sweatshirt, however, is streaked with blood that does indeed make her look like she’s stepped off the set of an 80’s horror flick. At least it’s not overly cold down here, Natalie thinks as she pulls it off, tying it around her waist as she slips down from the counter. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ve seen this over and over again, and after the thing with April’s dad, the Kraang never bothered with improving the brain control devices. They just replaced the humans they wanted to control. You’d be able to notice as long as you had a metal detector, or an infrared camera. But this? This is practically untraceable, and most importantly- <em>it shouldn’t have happened</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“So things are already changing,” Leonardo says as he shoves the door to the lab open. “Donnie, what does that mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“I fucked up the timeline.” Natalie blurts. “Or the Kraang did by bringing me here.”</p><p> </p><p>“And that means that everything could change from how it’s supposed to go.” Donnie’s eyes flick to Natalie. “I know it’s technically a time travel taboo, but if you could explain how it’s supposed to go…”</p><p> </p><p>Natalie has seen enough time travel movies to know that it probably won’t go well; but given that they deal with their own time travel and dimension hopping within the show, maybe giving a plan will help them stay on track? Either way, she knows that she sucks total ass at lying, and even if she tries her best, she will undoubtedly let something important spill accidentally; there’s no way around her gushing random TMNT stats and facts when she’s been doing it for years to anyone who would listen. </p><p> </p><p>Okay. So she just gives the shape of it. No details. She can definitely do that. Natalie crosses her arms. “What do you want to know?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Welcome to our humble abode</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm having a lot of fun with this, and since it's only for fun and my personal enjoyment, I realize I've let some mistakes pass me by. For one, I mentioned April being part Kraang, when that info isn't known in canon just yet. This all happens just before the last Rat King episode of season two, and I didn't realized until my rewatch that I'd messed up. Secondly, I'm writing this very out of order, with whatever scenes I daydream about coming to mind first, and me giving justification and filling in plot coming after, so there may be minor continuity mistakes still. Just *handwaves* let's call it foreshadowing, because changes were meant to happen in canon anyhow due to Natalie's inclusion. </p><p>As always, please remember to read and review! Suggestions are more than welcome.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Donnie struggles not to ask Natalie a question he’s been waffling over for ages- <em> Does April like me? Do I have a chance with her? </em>- because he knows that the minute he does, it might change everything; but also because he knows Mikey will ask about the ending to Super Mecha Robo Force Five, and Raph will want to know if he ever gets that growth spurt he’s been hoping for, and Leo will want to ask about Karai. And Donnie knows that knowing means that her words might mean nothing at all. Only the important things.</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Leo suggests. </p><p> </p><p>Natalie shifts her hands in her lap, as if uncomfortable in her tank top now that her shoulders are bare. There’s always a slight bit of embarrassment clinging to her whenever they mention the other versions of themselves- the ones she’s apparently been watching and rewatching for years now. Donnie notes it, and wonders if they can depend on her apparent affinity for them to their advantage. It certainly makes it easier to relax in her company, knowing that she’s unlikely to act against them. It even makes him want to, dare he say- <em> trust her- </em> because she’s trusted them so implicitly. More quickly than April had, and they’d rescued her from certain doom. </p><p> </p><p>“From the beginning beginning? Like when you turned fifteen and begged to go up top for your birthday or-” She fidgets more, kicking her feet a little as she leans one hand back on the desk. </p><p> </p><p>Leo winces, and Donnie thinks, then again, her intimate knowledge of them can leave their interactions a bit uncanny, if attention is called to it. </p><p> </p><p>“What came before this? What don’t we know about what the Kraang is planning?” </p><p> </p><p>“Oof, okay. So a rundown of this season? The Kraang are working with the Shredder to get to April. He wants mutagen to make his own mutant army, but ends up mutating Baxter Stockman, and Karai instead. Um, oh!” She snaps her fingers, as if suddenly remembering something. “Raph switches bodies with a Kraang a bit before the finale. It’s part of their infiltration plan. And you find a portal to Dimension X. Does that help?”</p><p> </p><p>Somewhat. Now that she’s pointed out all of the threads, Donnie thinks that he can determine where best to start. It just might take a while for things to align properly for anything to work.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, actually, it does." The group turns towards him as he continues to explain. "So imagine that each dimension is a page in a book. Dimension X and our world are pages two and three- close and not entirely separate. But yours is very different. To get from page two to page thirty six, you'd need some heavy duty work to hard force it. Something like that would be difficult to hide. Not only would it have to be large, it would also affect the rules of the universe around it. Which means it's probably in the technodrome, or in dimension X itself."</p><p> </p><p>Natalie hums. "You won't be able to get to it for a while, then. Have any idea how long it'll be until I get stuck here permanently? No offense, but I’d prefer a universe with less Kraang in it."</p><p> </p><p>"No," Donnie admits. Something like that is incredibly precise and would likely take a lot of invasive experimentation to determine. "But you'll likely know when you're getting close. Memories from this timeline will come back to you, and you'll have a hard time remembering that other life. Probably accompanied with headaches as well."</p><p> </p><p>Natalie doesn't look lost, which is refreshing, but she does look slightly nauseous. “And there’s no chance that this is a coma, or a dream or-”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s very unlikely.” Donnie says, as kindly as he is able. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, I guess I should be grateful that it’s not something worse.” Natalie sighs. “Could’ve been zombies, or titans or something that involves cardio.” </p><p> </p><p>“You’re taking all of this incredibly well,” April comments, crossing her arms. She’s been happier, Donnie thinks, since they’d mentioned Natalie to her. Given that the only other girl who’s in on the secret is the daughter of their greatest enemy, he can’t blame her for wanting to be friends with her. “I don’t think I could be this calm if I’d learned all of this in a day.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s kind of like meeting Captain Ryan,” Natalie admits, mostly to Leo. “Can you imagine how weird that would be? Or how hard it would be to keep from acting like a dork? You guys are what I watched every Saturday morning. You’re heroes to me, and also a little unreal. I’m just trying my best not to look like an idiot in front of you. Or, any more of an idiot, I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>Realization dawns on Mikey’s face first as he grins and grabs Natalie’s shoulders. If he had eyebrows, they’d be wiggling behind his mask. “You’re a fangirl! Guys, we have a fangirl!”</p><p> </p><p>Natalie huffs, but even her warm skin isn’t enough to hide the blush rising on her cheeks. “No. I’m not the one- My little brother-”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t look!” He covers her eyes with his hand, and Donnie is surprised to note that she hardly flinches. “What color are my eyes? Oh, oh! And Donnie’s? And Leo’s? And Raph’s?”</p><p> </p><p>Donnie is about to pull him away from her when she answers, “Blue, brown, blue, green,” in quick succession. “Okay,” She peels Mikey’s hand from her face. “Maybe I didn’t watch entirely, <em> completely </em> for my little brother. Doesn’t make me a fangirl, and <em> don’t let it get to your head."</em> She threatens, only somewhat seriously. Donnie knows that it’s a lost cause for Mikey, and that even if she won’t admit to it, that it’ll be an argument between his brothers for days on who’s most popular in her world.</p><p> </p><p>“Or else what?” Raph says, just to be an ass, as he hauls Mikey back. Looks like they’ll have to have a talk about personal space with humans again. “You’ll tell us about our favorite pizza trivia?”</p><p> </p><p>“Or we can play trivia with some more embarrassing factoids.” Natalie smiles widely, as if she’s been waiting for the chance to bring them up. “Like your fear of cockroaches and how you-”</p><p> </p><p>Raph laughs nervously. “Okay, we get it, thanks! Don’t piss off the lady with all the blackmail, got it.” </p><p> </p><p>The whiteboard with his notes stands obviously in the center of the room. Natalie slides off the table, and jabs her thumb awkwardly towards the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Not to be a party pooper, but could someone take me back? I do have work in the morning.” Her eyes flit between Mikey and April as an indulgent smile pulls at her mouth. She seems to be able to read those two the best out of the four of them, and can tell how much they enjoy meeting new friends. “But I’ll be free over the weekend if anyone wants anything.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anything? Even a horror movie marathon pizza party?” Mikey asks, eyes wide, and voice hopeful. His hands are already under his chin, primed for maximum cuteness if she requires additional begging to be convinced. </p><p> </p><p>“I guess? If that’s what you want to do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ooh! Ooh! I’ll walk you back and you can tell me-” As Mikey corals her back towards the door, their voices fade, leaving the remaining four of them to speak freely. </p><p> </p><p>April, ever perceptive, notices that he’s hiding something. He can feel her gaze on him as acutely as he can feel Sensei’s disapproval whenever he accidentally blows something up. Her arms are still crossed as she glances back at the door, and once sure that Mikey and their guests are gone, she says, “You didn’t tell her everything, did you?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Donnie admits. “I didn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t get it. What’s there to hide? She’s on our side, isn’t she?” Leo says.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, yes. But you’ve got to take into account desperation. Remember how she said that she had a little brother? I took the liberty of doing some basic research, and in this universe-” He flips open his laptop, and turns it around to face his brothers and April. </p><p> </p><p>“She’s an only child.” April gasps, a hand rising to cover her mouth in shock. By her reaction, Donnie knows that she gets it. She understands. </p><p> </p><p>Leo doesn't. He gestures at the screen. “Okay, and?”</p><p> </p><p>“This universe is very, very different for her. Here, her parents died five years ago. She moved to New York to stay with a boyfriend two years ago, and her brother was never born. But she still has memories of that other world. We aren’t the only ones who could help. If push came to shove, and she was faced with getting stuck here-”</p><p> </p><p>“She might be desperate enough to cooperate with the Kraang or the Shredder to get back.” Leo finishes grimly. “Master Splinter always says that the most dangerous enemy is the one who has nothing to lose.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but she’s not our enemy,” Raph says, flicking the bag of chips she’d left behind after taking off her bloody sweatshirt. “She’s just a few years older than us. She’s a <em> fan.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, we’ll have to make sure it doesn’t come to that,” Leo says firmly. “Donnie, do you think you can fix this?”</p><p> </p><p>“Pssh. Yeah, of course. What’s a little dimensional meddling in the scheme of things?” </p><p> </p><p>Leo takes his words at face value and nods. Raph shrugs, and takes the chips Natalie had left behind, popping them open as he follows Leo back to the pit. April lingers the longest, eyes narrowed as if she doesn’t quite believe him, even though she wants to before she too slips away. Donnie holds his breath until he’s alone. Natalie believes in him, and he hopes that she’s right in doing so, because this is a lot, and the stakes are as high as ever.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. this wasn't supposed to happen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Pleaseeeeee talk to me. I'm watching season 5 for apparently the first time ever and I'm having feelings?? Anyways, comments give me life.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As Natalie steps out onto the already steaming New York summer streets, she hardly pays attention to anyone around her. Her mind is on other things. </p><p> </p><p>The night before had been a lot, but Natalie is rolling with it. Mikey had walked her home, their discussion of horror movies continuing all the while. Once she’d gotten home, she'd helped herself to sleep with a healthy serving of vodka, and very decidedly not thought about what she’d learned that day. Just because she’d decided not to deal with it last night doesn’t mean it doesn’t have to be dealt with at all. </p><p> </p><p>As she walks down the familiar city street, her head aches faintly with a lingering hangover. Her skirted suit and heels take in heat like metal left in the sun. Natalie wonders if she’ll remember any of this when they put her back. She doesn’t let herself linger on the ‘if’. There is no if in Ba Sing Se! Donnie is literally a genius and she’s seen him do far more outlandish things than that. </p><p> </p><p>A woman ahead of her shrieks as a rat runs over her open toed shoes. The people walking around her back up, and out of the way, before reluctantly continuing their fast pace. Ew. She has nothing against rats in the pet rat sort of sense, but crawling over your feet? That would never happen in ATL. Natalie adjusts her purse strap and walks a little closer to the curb. </p><p> </p><p>“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” A man yells hysterically as he bursts from an alleyway. He falls, landing on his back. The people nearby step around him and out of his way, but a few pause, eyes wide in horror as something large and heaving pushes onto the street. “Get away!” The man shrieks, his voice high with fear.  </p><p> </p><p>It opens its mouth, two long incisors- no, no incisors, front teeth, like a rat- plunge into his thigh. They cut through his flesh like cheese, and for a moment everyone is frozen. Is it going to eat him? Right on the street next to a subway shop and overpriced coffee stand?</p><p> </p><p>It clenches it’s jaw, blood spilling through the gaps of his teeth and spits him out. The man at the coffee stands shoves a business woman out of the way, and gestures to a nearby pizza boy to help as he pulls the man back. He convulses, spittle leaking from his mouth. His back throws and lurches as something shifts under his skin. Natalie knows she should do something- <em>call someone</em>- but the sound of bones cracking and flesh groaning as they grow beneath the skin is so sickeningly interesting, she can't turn away. It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion. </p><p> </p><p>Natalie’s hands sweat around the leather purse strap. The sounds of panic, of horns blowing in the distance, and the trains running beneath the city all fade to white noise as the man’s skin ploughs off, replaced by fur, and a hulking being, more rat than man, emerges. </p><p> </p><p>It clicks- this is “Of Rats and Men”, and this must be Falco’s plan, gone right. Zombie rats. Of course. What else should she expect on her daily commute to work? Normalcy?</p><p> </p><p>People scatter, diving into the streets as manhole covers are pushed aside, and more rat beings emerge from shadowy alleyways. They knock into people, pouncing over cars to get the slowest of them. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh shit,” Natalie curses under her breath, heading back towards her apartment. “Oh fuck.” </p><p> </p><p>Running in heels was never her forte. After a few feet, she has no choice but to slip them off and run barefoot. There’s no direction of traffic to follow. Everyone is running randomly, trying their best to avoid the smaller waves of rats that follow behind. Right. So keeping to the streets isn’t going to work. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay, okay, so that’s not gonna work.” Natalie pulls her T-phone from her purse as she spots a fire escape ladder for a nearby apartment building. It’s in one of the alleys, one that’s thankfully clear except for a rat monster crawling out of a sewer, half stuck in the manhole cover towards the back. There’s a dumpster between the ladder and it. Natalie glances at the street, which is quickly being covered by a wave of squirming rodent bodies, and the one little zombifying rat, and makes a choice. </p><p> </p><p>She tucks her T-phone into her bra as she darts into the alleyway. Her feet slap against the ground as she sprints over a white haired man lying prone on the street, and through various puddles. Something crunches beneath her heel, followed by a stinging pain, but she ignores it. Her skirt is riding up as the creature looks up, and screeches. It scrambles to escape the manhole, lurching free as Natalie reaches for the first rung, and then the second, launching herself upwards as quickly as she can. </p><p> </p><p>The rat clangs against the bottom of the ladder, black eyes peering up at her as she hooks an arm over a rung and looks down. </p><p> </p><p>“Ha! Now whatchu gonna do?”</p><p> </p><p>It screeches, and rams the bottom of the ladder. Natalie gulps and continues climbing, clutching the ladder for dear life as it continues trying to knock her free. As she breeches the rooftop, she rolls over the side of it, landing on her back as she catches her breath. </p><p> </p><p>She pulls her t-phone free and turns it on. </p><p> </p><p>###</p><p> </p><p>“Hi. So um, there’s like a rodent problem? A zombie rodent problem specifically, which is fine- it’s fine, because I know you guys can handle- <em>have handled it before</em>, but it’s also, sort of wrong? Because there wasn’t supposed to be zombie rats. Just giant rats and the Rat King.”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh-” Mikey had turned the phone on speaker halfway through. “Leo?” </p><p> </p><p>Leo looks up from his newest Space Heroes comic then down to his phone as it dings. April has sent them a text message- four letters H E L P, and a picture of what looks to be at first glance to be a brown tidal wave. Leo squints, and realizes that it is not. </p><p> </p><p>He sighs, and joins Mikey at the table. “Wait, wait. Go back. There’s zombie rats? How did we defeat the Rat King when there weren’t zombie rats?”</p><p> </p><p>“Did April bring you a cat, and is that cat now ice cream?”</p><p> </p><p>“I-” Leo turns and glares at Mikey, who stands in front of the fridge, hands crossed behind his back as if to keep the door closed. The answer is obvious through his expression. Leo turns back to the phone. “Yes to both.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, so your dad gets possessed, but kills the Rat King, while you all free the captured humans. This was-” Natalie huffs as if out of breath. In the distance, Leo can hear screams, partially distorted by the phone. “This was like, the worst case scenario. It doesn’t happen. The zombie rat thing was like a throwaway line.”</p><p> </p><p>Step one: Find Natalie and April. </p><p> </p><p>“Alright, we’ll come get you. Where are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh,” Gravel crunching underfoot. Heavy breathing. “Um, on a building across from Antonio’s Pizza? I climbed on the roof. Oh! And April should be on a lamp post, if that helps any.”</p><p> </p><p>“Actually, yes, it does. Stay put. We’ll be there soon.”</p><p> </p><p>As Leo hangs up, Donnie emerges from his lab, T-phone in hand. “Did you get this mass text from April?”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh-huh, and a call from Natalie too, dudes.” Mikey supplies.</p><p> </p><p>“She chose to call <em>you</em>,” Donnie says the word with suspicion as his eyes glance at the mess Mikey’s made of the kitchen table. It looks like peanut butter- tomato- banana pizza, but even Leo isn’t sure. “Instead of literally <em> anyone </em> else?”</p><p> </p><p>Mikey grins. “What can I say? Homegirl’s got taste!”</p><p> </p><p>Leo resists the urge to do a face palm. “Donnie, you and Raph go help April. Mikey, you’re with me.”</p><p> </p><p>Coming topside in the middle of the day feels like being naked in front of a crowd, but Mikey doesn’t seem to feel the shame and discomfort that Leo feels as they scale the side of the closest building. It’s not as if anyone is noticing them. Most humans are off the streets, curtains closed, or else hidden deeper in the building. The few that are on the streets below are too busy attempting to free themselves from the maws of rats the size of men, or dealing with their own transformations. </p><p> </p><p>“Listen close, Mikey. The plan is to get Natalie, bring her back to the lair, and track down the Rat King’s lair. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about Ice Cream Kitty, either.”</p><p> </p><p>Mikey huffs and backs away, hands raised is sheepish prostration. “No worries dude. She’s loving it in that freezer. I even opened up some mint chocolate chip for her to make friends with!”</p><p> </p><p>“Mikey-”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey!” In the distance, Natalie calls, waving her arm from an opposite rooftop. Her blazer is tied around her waist, and her skirt is ripped to mid-thigh, but besides her clothes being a little mussed up, she looks alright. </p><p> </p><p>“We’ll come back to it later.” Leo bites out as they cross the final distance. Right now they have an apparent zombie-rat apocalypse to deal with, and Natalie is their best shot for figuring out what to do about it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Could've been worse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Natalie is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> alright. Her feet hurt like a bitch, as she’d apparently ran over a broken bottle during her mad sprint to the ladder, and the quickly rising summer heat is only making the muggy air feel worse.The state of her clothes- ripped and smeared with grease from the ladder- don’t help her feel any less ragged. She imagines that April, likely perched on a light fixture in a manner more fitting for a bird, is not faring much better. At the very least, Natalie feels a little bit safer now that Leo and Mikey are here. Despite having her gun in her purse, she’s not so sure it’ll do much against man sized rats, or that using it against one wouldn’t count as murder once they turn back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(</span>
  <em>
    <span>Not if, she thinks. Because of course they’ll come out on top</span>
  </em>
  <span>.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Leo and Mikey land on the graveled roof, another loud clang rings from below as the rat headbuts the ladder. Natalie winces, hoping that it doesn’t figure out that there are a myriad of other ways to get up here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” Leo asks, walking cautiously near the edge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Natalie nearly falls as she reaches out to grab his wrist, stopping him from moving into view of the attacker below. The last time she’d checked, two others had joined it, attracted by the noise. One of them wore the shredded remains of blue jeans around it’s lower leg. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t do that</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It makes them more agitated when they have proof someone’s actually up here, and I’d rather not live out the plot of Dawn of the Dead, if I don’t have to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Mikey scoffs, inching towards the edge. “It can’t be </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Natalie drops Leo’s wrist, crossing her arms as she watches Mikey peer over it. Metal clangs as something strikes against it, and she hears hissing as the rats below scramble to reach for him. She hadn’t meant to hold on so long, but Mikey is very good at being distracting. She hides the inherent awkwardness by sliding off of the AC unit she’s been using as a seat, wincing as the gravel further irritates her feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay. So it is that bad. That’s fine, that’s fine yo. You can go all Jill Valentine on ‘em, like we’re in Racoon City.” Mikey mimes shooting a gun, striking poses reminiscent of Charlie’s Angels.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A Glock-19 only has 16 rounds, and unfortunately, I don’t have endless bullets hidden in my purse. If it would even do much against something like that.” Natalie says doubtfully. Her time in the range with her dad had taught her to aim for the heart and head, but in a creature like this, there’s no guarantee that her shots would bring them down, or that she'd still have good aim. Her freeze earlier comes to mind.  “Do you mind helping me get home before you save the day? I’d rather not wait out your heroics here, if I can help it. Pretty sure they’ll figure out how to climb eventually.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure. Think you can fill us in on the way?” Leo offers her a hand, obviously practiced at the ancient ninja art of piggy back rides. Mikey knocks him aside with an exaggerated sway of his hips, leaning over at an awkward angle as he pats his shell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My lady, your noble turtle-steed awaits.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, he didn’t drop her when he brought her home last night. Natalie shrugs, and accepts his offer with an equally exaggerated curtsey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why, thank you, fair steed.” Natalie gives her best shot at an English accent, but it turns somewhat Australian towards the end. She and Mikey make an effort not to laugh. They both fail, and as they cross several buildings, the joke continues, each time, their accents get progressively worse. By the time their laughter dies down, Natalie can see the greenhouse on the roof of her building rising up amongst the clothes lines and satellite dishes up ahead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Natalie?” Leo prompts, obviously used to tomfoolery slowing things down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think there’s a whole bunch to really fill in,” Natalie says as Mikey launches over to the next roof. Beneath them, a rat half stuck in one of the open windows scratches at his feet, narrowly missing Mikey’s heel. “You already knew about the Rat King, right? You fought him before, after he-” Natalie pauses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She knows how this goes, and even beyond the sudden appearance of zombie rats, this is wrong. If this is season two, then this episode should be at night. Their first warning about the Rat King would’ve happened at their kitchen table. They should already know all of this.  And then suddenly, Natalie realizes her mistake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is all wrong. If this is season two, then this episode should taken place at night, and the rat zombies shouldn’t have have happened at all, and Casey- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Realization dawns like a hangover after waking up in the bushes. This is</span>
  <em>
    <span> not</span>
  </em>
  <span> how it’s supposed to go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nat?” Leo prompts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the street below, furry bodies writhe and scratch at closed storefront doors. Natalie looks away as the windshield of a cab breaks and the passengers inside shriek as their attacker pushes his way inside. She shakes her head, hoping to clear it like an etch-a-sketch. Mikey’s rough landing on the roof of her apartment, much sooner than she had anticipated, startles her out of her silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something is really off here, but I can’t tell what.” Natalie isn’t sure what, exactly, she’s missing, but it feels like an itch in the back of her throat, just out of reach. She crosses her arms, surveying the rooftop as if she might find the answer staring back at her if she only looks hard enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s only clothes lines, and the open doors of the greenhouse. The uneasy feeling sticks to her skin like a film.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A furry body jumping from the shadows, and knocking Leo to the ground-</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Natalie shoves aside the intrusive thought. “Let’s talk inside.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Going back to her apartment is a risk, as even as they climb down the fire escape, she can see a few rat men who’d made it indoors roaming around inside. Some bang on the doors of what she assumes are bedrooms, as if attempting to get to whoever is inside. Others rummage through fridges and cabinets. What’s most unnerving are the ones that are perfectly undisturbed, as if frozen in time from this morning. The unit above her own is marked with cheeto dust footprints leading towards the open door to the hallway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d always thought that a zombie apocalypse would be a little less hairy, and perhaps, a bit closer to the type shown in The Walking Dead. In Georgia, this sort of thing wouldn’t be a problem. Hell, there’s more guns per square foot than people. An hour, tops, and everything would be back to normal, though a faint hint of gunpowder would likely linger in the air. Everyone would be just as confused as she is, and perhaps then no one would be able to tell how hopelessly lost she is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>###</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Natalie limps towards the bedroom as soon as she wiggles through the window, while Mikey heads for her fridge. Just as the last few times they’ve been here, it’s mostly a collection of liquor and juice cartoons, leftovers, and quick reheat foods, like hot pockets and personal pizzas. While Mikey may have taken her offer when they first met to ‘help themselves’ to heart, Leo is not going to impose, even if a vanilla ice cream sounds awesome right now. As Mikey rummages through her freezer, Leo paces the living room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d texted Donnie and Raph to head over their way instead of back to the lair. They'll be here in a few minutes, given that nothing slows them down. Besides Natalie’s ‘bad feeling’ (which he’s decided to take seriously, given how often April’s bad feelings end up being right), the sewers are likely congested with the lot of them heading towards the undercity. The lair is well hidden, sure, but with so many humans and used-to-be humans down there, he thinks it's better not to risk it. Who knows that a rat person may accidentally see, or if they'll remember it when they turn them back human.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her apartment is sparsely decorated. Just a few pieces of furniture, with everything personal shoved into corners or into drawers. It's nothing like home, where even Leo's room has a few spots of clutter where Space Heroes action figures and comics have accumulated. Besides the posters, there's little to differentiate this place from any other New York apartment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From the bedroom, he hears Natalie curse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leo remembers her scratched up feet and walks over. The door is ajar, and from the open crack he can see Natalie sitting on the bed, attempting to reach her foot  and resembling a crumpled origami figure more than a person. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That would probably be easier with a second pair of hands." Leo offers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Natalie jumps at his voice, brown eyes wide. When she looks up, she relaxes, dropping her foot to the ground. She's changed out of her work clothes, and again, it's as if she's regressed a few years. It's just jeans and a red t-shirt this time, but it's much more flattering than corporate grey's. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She offers him the tweezers. "You don’t have to."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mind, really.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leo pushes the door open, trying his best not to seem obvious as he looks around. The laundry basket in the corner is full. There's an xbox next to the small tv in the corner, and a handful of posters hastily taped to the wall. As he sits on the bed beside her, he notices the bra laying haphazardly across the top of the lamp. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks away quickly, trying not to blush as he takes the tweezers from her outstretched hand. She shifts backwards, scooting so that her foot falls just barely in his lap. Her toes are painted a girlish pink, he notes, as he starts to pluck tiny, gleaming pieces of glass from the various cuts on the bottom of her foot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sets them down on the bedside table, and for a moment, the only noises in the small apartment are of their breathing, the clink of glass on wood, and the wrinkling of cellophane in the kitchen. Moments of quiet like these don't happen much in the middle of capital-E events like these. Usually, he and his brothers have to keep moving, keep thinking, pushing forward until the problem is solved and the city has fallen into peace once again.  Leo doesn't mind this. Even if it is a little unorthodox.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Natalie jerks as he digs the tweezers in deeper. She looks away sheepishly as he places a hand on her ankle to hold her still. "Sorry. I’m a little ticklish."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's fine." Leo glances up at her, but her expression is hidden by strands of her curly hair, having fallen from its earlier ponytail. He thinks he sees her biting her lip as he pulls another piece free. "You're doing pretty good actually. Mikey throws a fit over a stubbed toe. He'd be milking this for all it's worth, if it were him and we gave him the chance."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Natalie shrugs, and leans back. "It's not so bad." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Really?” Leo quirks an eyebrow. “You've something like this happen to you before?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nothing like this, exactly, but I have sat through a fair share of tattoos.” She brushes her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear as she smiles slightly. “It’ll take a prick much bigger than that to make me feel it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, um,” Leo’s cheeks warm. Was that on purpose or is he just thinking too hard on it? He sets down the tweezers and wraps her foot, before switching over to the next one. “You-you have tattoos?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t notice?” Natalie laughs, and pulls a thumb down against the top of her shirt. It tips down, revealing the tops of her breasts and- oh. Peeking from between them, is a black snake tattoo. She releases her hold, and the t-shirt pops back into position. “I guess not. I haven’t really been showing it off or anything with work clothes. What do you think? Like the view?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I- uh- it’s a nice. Nice tattoo!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The window pane slams open out in the living room, thankfully giving Leo a reason to hurry up and finish (don’t think about it, don’t think about it). As he wraps her other foot, she slides on a pair of socks, and grabs a pair of sneakers by the foot of the bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. Not just for the compliment- I mean, thanks. For everything. You didn’t have to help with all of this.” She gestures vaguely at her feet as she pulls on her shoes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a problem, really. It wasn’t even that hard.” Leo’s brain blue screens just a little. Why can’t he stop with the entendre? This kind of dirty joke is more Raph and Casey’s thing, but now that Natalie’s gotten him started, it keeps happening. “I mean, it didn’t take a lot of effort. We’ve had way har- more difficult rescues than that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You like playing hero.” Natalie says matter of factly. “It’s cute.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leo waits a full ten seconds after she walks back into the living room before following, working hard to shove the blush on his cheeks away, before joining his brothers. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Lo would be the most flustered by this kind of humor, and Natalie knows this,,, and definitely maybe sort of teased him on purpose just to see how far she could go before he short circuited.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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